It's a Holiday Season
by cmaddict
Summary: MacStella. Collection of unconnected one shots based around different holidays. Mostly fluff, very randomly updated. Now up: 'Next Year, Baby.' Happy 2010!
1. Fireworks

**A/N: **Just a short little piece about the Fourth... actually one of the shortest pieces I've written in a long time. It hasn't been beta'd or anything, so all mistakes are mine. I just got to thinking earlier today, and this is what came out as I've been stuck at work watching The Boston Pops on TV. Please let me know what you think about it... after all, reviews = love! Happy Independence Day!

**Disclaimer:** Yep, don't own. If I did, I wouldn't have to work on a national holiday.

**Fireworks**

Red and blue sparks shot into the night sky, mirrored in the murky waters of the Hudson beneath it. A loud boom reverberated off the skyscrapers of the Manhattan skyline. The "oohs" and "ahhs" of the onlookers wafted through the air as another rocket exploded above them, golden sparkles falling gently toward the earth.

Mac sat in the bed of his truck in Central Park, eyes glued toward the sky, arms folded over his chest as he watched the sparks mushroom into the blackened sky. The air was warm and humid, but a cool breeze blew off the Sound. Much like he supposed it was all those years ago, when the news of the Declaration of Independence first reached Manhattan.

"Hell of a show."

The familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked down to see Stella standing at the tailgate, two Cokes in her hands, her dark curls blowing in the cool breeze. Another firework whined overhead just before it exploded, bathing the city in red and white light. "I hear it's one of the best."

"That's what they say. But you know what they say about rumors too." She grinned at him. "Help me up?"

He complied immediately, offering a hand to help her clamber into the truck. She sighed as she sat down next to him, her shoulder brushing against his. "Here," she said, handing him one of the chilled bottles of soda.

With a smile, he took it and slowly twisted the cap off. Another one went off above them. "I've always loved Independence Day," he commented, taking a deep swig of his Coke.

"Me too," she replied, staring up at the sky.

"It's kinda funny, don't you think?"

"How?" she asked, looking over at him.

"How we celebrate one of the biggest acts of treason in the history of the world."

She chuckled at that and gently patted his hand. "Only you would find that funny, Mac."

Mac laughed with her and, feeling a little impulsive since it was so dark and no one they knew was around, took her hand in his, tenderly cradling it. Surprisingly she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned a little closer to him, their shoulders touching. He could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo, and suddenly it felt like hundreds of fireworks were exploding in his heart.

"You know, the Fourth really didn't mean much to me until I joined the Marines," he said quietly, barely audible over the pops of the fireworks.

Stella pulled back a little, looking at him. "Why's that?"

He sighed and took another long draft of his soda. "When I first joined the Marines, the Fourth was in the middle of basic training. We were at Camp LeJeune, and they lined us all up to watch the fireworks over the Atlantic Ocean." He paused for a brief moment, and the only sound heard was the loud boom of the rockets shooting through the sky. "I'll never forget what they said to us."

She squeezed his hand tighter, reassuring him to keep going. "What was it, Mac?"

"They said that our freedom and liberty was founded on people like us. Ordinary people who knew that freedom came with a dear, dear price." He sighed, still looking at the sky.

"Whenever I see those fireworks, I'm reminded of the men that I fought with in Beirut, with the bombs going off everywhere and everything exploding around us. I remember being scared to death, thinking that I would never be able to see my family again, or my homeland again. And then I thought about the thousands of other men thinking the same thing: The men fighting their way through Normandy after D-Day, the Marines on Iwo Jima, the Union soldiers defending that ridge outside of Gettysburg and the Confederate soldiers making that charge across a mile of open ground, the men defending Fort McHenry during the War of 1812. And I remember thinking that it was all worth it. Everything was completely worth it. Because I realized that day that there's no higher honor than to fight and die for your country."

They lapsed into silence once again, colored lights still illuminating the night sky, the thunderous booms shaking the earth. Finally Stella twisted her hand in his and laid her head on his shoulder, interlacing their fingers, and for a second, he thought his heart stopped. "Thank you, Mac," she whispered. "For serving us. I don't think I ever told you how grateful I am for it."

He smiled softly, and, not fully knowing whether it was the fireworks in the air or the sparks flying between them, he pressed a kiss into her curls. "I don't think I ever told you how grateful I am for you."

She lifted her head and smiled. And as thousands of fireworks burst in the sky above Manhattan, the only fireworks he cared to see were reflected in her eyes.


	2. Labor Day

**A/N**: So, I was going to keep this as just a one-shot, but after a request from well-written and a few sleepless hours, I got this idea and I just couldn't pass it up. So I decided to do a collection of very short one-shots about various holidays. They probably won't be posted on the holiday itself - like this one - and they'll probably be really random - like this one - but I hope you enjoy it anyway. And, if you have any ideas about any other holidays I could use, feel free to PM me or leave it in a review. I could use the help! Many, many thanks to the reviewers from "Fireworks" - you made a horrible holiday wonderful!

**Labor Day**

Stella laid her head back on her pillow, straining to draw breath into her starving lungs. She tightened her grip on Mac's hand and turned to look at him. Perspiration dotted her forehead, her dark curls plastered to her skin. "This is _not_ how I envisioned spending Labor Day," she panted.

"Cheer up, Stel," he said with a grin. He brushed her sweaty curls back from her brow with a tender hand, his calloused thumbs skating across her cheeks. "It'll all be over soon."

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. The bed creaked when she shifted. "It doesn't feel like someone's got _your_ stomach in a vice-grip."

"Nice description. I don't think I've ever heard it put quite like that."

"Oh, shut up. This is all _your_ fault."

"My fault?" His eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. "How is it my fault?"

"Your idea. And science says it is."

"I seem to remember from college that two people have to be involved."

"Doesn't matter. It's still your fault."

He smirked smugly at her. "I don't exactly remember you complaining about it back then. In fact, I seem to recall you enjoying it rather immensely."

She shot him her patented glare, her green eyes narrowed. His smirk widened. "I did enjoy it immensely. It was fun back then."

"And it's not now?"

"Absolutely not. And if this is what comes out of _that_, it's going to be a _long_ time before we ever do _that_ again."

Mac's gray-blue eyes widened. "You wound me, Stel."

"You'll get over it eventually."

"Somehow I doubt that." Mac leaned forward, gently placing a kiss on her lips. He pulled away and smiled warmly at her, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. "In just a few hours, it'll be over, and it'll completely be worth it."

The corner of her mouth quirked, and she kissed him again softly. "Yeah. I guess it will be."

But then another wave of pain hit her hard, and she screamed against gritted teeth. Her fingers clenched his. After several long moments, the agony subsided, and she released his fingers and sank back against the pillow. "Never mind," she gasped. "Not worth it."

Mac shook the hand she'd been clasping. "I never realized how strong you are. I think you almost broke my hand."

She grinned at him and trailed her fingers down his strong jaw. "Sorry."

"No, you're not." He turned his head just a little and gently kissed her scarred fingertips. "But that's okay. _I_ think it's worth it."

Suddenly the door swung open, and a gray-haired woman clad in blue stepped into the room, her tennis shoes making soft noises against the tile floor. The silver band draped across her shoulders glinted in the low light. "How are we doing?" she asked, giving Stella a warm smile.

Stella frowned. "_He's_ doing fine," she retorted, jerking her thumb at Mac. "_I_ hurt."

Mac looked up at the woman, the corners of his mouth twitching. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Aw." Stella smiled and patted his cheek with the palm of her hand. "It's still your fault."

The woman chuckled. "You'd be surprised at how many women say that in my presence."

"'Cause it's true," Stella said triumphantly.

She laughed again and shook her head wordlessly. A short stool waited patiently in the corner, and she crossed the room in a few steps. The metal legs scraped against the floor as she pulled it over to the edge of Stella's bed. "Okay, I'm going to check something really quickly, and we'll see if you're ready to go."

"I'd better be ready to go," Stella groaned, glancing at Mac. "This is getting a little ridiculous."

"It'll all be over soon," Mac repeated, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I really wish you'd quit saying that."

"Okay, Stella," the woman sat up and gave Stella another warm smile. "Looks like you're all ready." She stood up and crossed the room to a glass cabinet on the other side. The door swung open, and two similarly dressed women walked into the huge room.

"Are you ready for this?" Mac asked Stella as the woman snapped a pair of gloves over her hands.

Stella smiled at him and, reaching up a little, brushed a kiss against his cheek. "As long as you're with me," she whispered.

Mac returned her smile. "Good."

With a final loud _snap_ from the rubber gloves, the woman returned to Stella's bedside and took a seat on the stool again. "All right, let's get this party started! Mr. Taylor, sit behind her, keep her supported.'

He complied, sitting on the edge of the bed and sliding his arm around Stella's waist. She leaned back against his chest and wrapped her thin fingers around his larger ones. "Just like we practiced," he murmured in her ear.

"Except this time it hurts," she returned, her breath coming in short and shallow gasps. The pain was almost constant, and her grip on his hand tightened.

"Now, when I tell you to, I want you to push really hard, okay?" The woman positioned herself at the end of Stella's bed and lifted the thin sheet covering her knees.

Stella groaned and looked at Mac. "You sure it's too late to ask for some painkillers?"

"Definitely." The pressure on his hand skyrocketed as another sharp pang raced through her.

"Okay, Stella," the woman said, adjusting the stethoscope around her neck. "Push!"

Stella gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might. Her hand constricted his, cutting off all circulation to his fingers. She moaned and bit back a scream of pain. "Breathe, Stel!" he said in her ear. "C'mon, breathe! He he hoo, he he hoo…"

"You bastard," she growled, glaring at him. "You did this to me! It's all your fault!" He ignored her rants and just squeezed her hands again. She relaxed her respirations just a little, breathing with him as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I can see something!" the woman said from the end of the bed. "You've gotta keep pushing."

"Ugh, not again!" she groaned. "I don't wanna. Please, Mac, I don't wanna."

Mac shook his head and kissed her drenched hair. "Couple more. Just a couple more, 'kay? You can do this. Breathe."

"Okay, push again!" the woman ordered.

Stella sat straight up, squeezed Mac's hand with all her might, and screamed, "Aarrgh!" Mac winced in pain, her grip feeling like his hand was caught in a vice, and he was suddenly grateful that her eyes were closed so she couldn't yell at him again.

"I got the head and the shoulders!" the older woman shouted. "One more push, Stella! You can do it!"

"Hear that?" Mac kissed her head, ignoring the glare she shot in his direction. "One more! One more, hon!"

"All right, push, Stella!"

Stella gritted her teeth and pushed again with every ounce of strength she possessed, her screams reverberating off the tile walls.

"I got it!" the doctor shouted as Stella collapsed into Mac's arms, chest heaving. Within seconds, a loud _smack!_ and then a baby's protesting cry filled the room. "It's a girl!"

"A girl?" Stella panted, her green eyes lighting up as she looked at Mac. "It's a girl! Can I see her?"

"Let me get her cleaned up a little," the doctor said. She grabbed a towel off the instrument tray next to her and wrapped the child in it before taking it to the other side of the room where the two other women – both nurses – waited.

"You did wonderful, sweetheart," Mac murmured, pressing a kiss onto Stella's curls.

Stella released his hand and brushed a finger down his cheek. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Here she is!" They looked up to see the doctor holding the tiny squalling infant, wrapped in a little pink blanket. Stella held out her arms, and the doctor carefully slid the child into her waiting embrace. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor," she said, grinning widely.

Stella cradled the little girl against her chest, tears springing to her eyes. "Look, Mac. She's beautiful. Absolutely perfect."

Mac gently kissed her temple and watched serenely as the baby wrapped her tiny fingers around his larger one. "Just like her mom," he whispered. "Little Jessica Aiden Taylor."

She smiled and, putting her hand around his neck, gently pulled him down to her. She softly pressed his lips to his, moving her hand down his cheek, feeling his five o'clock shadow scratch against her palm. "I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"It's okay," he replied with a shrug and a grin. "After nine months, I'm used to hormones."

Bouncing their baby daughter in her arms, Stella glared at him playfully. "Watch it."

"Yes, ma'am." He kissed her one more time, then kissed the baby's downy head. "I love you, Mrs. Taylor."

"I love you too, Mr. Taylor."

They sat there for a long moment, staring at the now sleeping little girl, until suddenly Mac broke out into a wide grin. Stella looked at him, eyebrow cocked curiously. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing." She raised both eyebrows, and he chuckled. "It's just… I guess this gives a whole new meaning to 'Labor Day'."

* * *

**So how did I do? I've never been in labor (and I'm definitely not looking forward to it), but I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave me all comments, good or bad! And, if you're interested, please check out my case-fic in progress "Justice is Served".** **Thank you all so much!**


	3. Ghouls, Goblins, and Ghostlings

**A/N:** Thank you guys so much for all the lovely reviews for the last one! You're all amazing... I know I say that a lot, but seriously, you are.

Okay, here's another random holiday story, obviously Halloween from the title. It's more humor than fluff. It may be slightly out of character, but I got this idea in my head and it wouldn't get out. Again, it hasn't been beta'd, so all mistakes are completely mine. I hope you all enjoy it regardless; I certainly enjoyed writing it. Oh, and for those following 'Justice is Served', an update on that will be coming tomorrow. Please, let me know what you think!

**Ghouls, Goblins, and Ghostlings**

"I hate Halloween."

The out-of-the blue declaration from Mac made Stella glance at him in bemusement. The night was dark and deep away from the city's bright lights. A cool October breeze rustled the dead leaves hanging on the tree limbs stretched over the path like bony hands. An otherwise darkened house loomed in front of them, gray eaves stretching toward the sky. Somewhere nearby a raven cawed loudly. In the distance thunder growled low and deep. They slowly trudged up the walkway toward the old mansion, lugging their heavy cases behind them, brown leaves crunching under their feet.

"Oh really?" she asked, a carefully groomed eyebrow rising delicately, a hint of laughter in her voice. "And why's that?"

"It's a stupid holiday," he replied, shifting his case from one hand to the other. "Everyone knows that ghouls and goblins and ghosts are just myths."

"I think it's fun." They climbed up the wooden steps of the front porch, stopping at the front door, depictions of oddly-shaped faces intricately carved into the wood. "Dressing up in funny costumes, pretending to be a princess or a pirate, getting all kinds of goodies in that little bucket."

"The whole idea of having a holiday devoted to scaring people is just ludicrous. There's no point to it."

"C'mon, Mac. Are you telling me you didn't dress up in your little Army fatigues with your bucket and go trick-or-treating around your neighborhood when you were a kid?"

"I did for a couple of years. And then I figured out it was stupid."

Stella raised both eyebrows this time and put her free hand on her hip. "Oh, I get it. You didn't get as much candy as your friends, did'ya?"

Mac glared at her. "Historically the Celts believed that on October 31, ghosts of those deceased returned to earth for the sole purpose of ruining crops and causing trouble. After the spread of Christianity, it was turned into a celebration of the dead saints, giving it the name All Hallows Eve."

"Thanks for the history lesson, but you still didn't answer my question."

"I got plenty of candy, thank you very much." He gestured toward the door. "Now, can we just go inside and do our work?"

Stella chuckled and reached for the brass doorknob. "Aye, aye, boss."

The door swung open with a resonating creak, revealing a dark hallway with wooden stairs climbing up and up until they disappeared into the blackness. It was eerily silent inside, so quiet they could hear the quiet rustling of termites in a feeding frenzy. The distinct odor of moth balls and mold floated into the autumn air.

They shared a glance. "Talk about creepy," Stella commented dryly.

"Flack said that the vic's in the upstairs bedroom."

"Where is Flack, anyway?"

"Probably canvassing the neighborhood for witnesses." He motioned toward a silver sedan parked across the street. "His car's still here."

Silence settled over the pair, broken only by the occasional cry of the raven. Mac looked at Stella and Stella looked at Mac, expectation mirrored in both sets of eyes. Stella made a sweeping motion with one hand. "After you."

"Ladies first," Mac countered.

She grimaced, telling him exactly how she felt about that comment. "You're the Marine. You go first."

Mac sighed and glowered at his partner. "Fine. But only because I don't want to sit out here and argue with you for the next hour."

A triumphant grin split her beautiful face. "I knew you'd see the wisdom in that."

He pushed the door farther open, its creak reminiscent of the sound fingernails make against a chalkboard. Mac stepped across the threshold, Stella's hand on his shoulder as she followed. They glanced at each other again and silently pulled out their flashlights from their belts. Two beams of light illuminated the darkened hallway, traveling up the stairs until both disappeared. Again they exchanged glances, and Stella jerked her head toward the stairs.

"Right behind ya, Mac," she murmured, her voice shattering the eerie silence.

"Now how did I know you'd say that?"

She grinned but didn't answer. Shifting the weight of his case, Mac crossed the hardwood floor toward the stairs. Slowly the pair ascended the stairs to the second floor. The wood groaned loudly under their combined weight, reverberating off the walls.

There were three doors leading to the second floor landing. One on the far side of the stairs was slightly open, but not enough so that they could see inside. Mac shone his flashlight in that direction. "Stella," he said, nudging his partner. He nodded his head toward the door. Cautiously they walked forward. Mac reached out the hand grasping the flashlight and pushed the door open, wincing at the loud screech the hinges emitted.

"Someone needs some WD-40 around here," he muttered.

Stella huffed. "Among other things."

They shone both flashlights inside the room. It was empty save for a dresser in one corner and a bed with just the box springs in the other.

Suddenly their beams alighted on a dark pool of thick, crimson liquid in the center of the room.

"Is that blood?" Stella asked.

"Appears that way." Mac frowned and stepped into the room. "So where's the body?"

"Maybe Flack got the wrong room."

Mac gave her a look, and she held up her hands.

"Or maybe not. I told you this was creepy."

"We need to split up and search this place for it."

Stella's green eyes widened. "Split up?" she echoed. "Are you crazy? Do you know what happens in every horror movie when the main characters decide to split up?"

"This isn't a horror movie, Stel. Ghosts and ghouls and goblins don't exist." He grasped his case in one hand. "Now I'll search up here, and you take a look around downstairs, okay?"

She pursed her lips and huffed. "Fine. Okay." She pointed a finger at him. "But if some creepy guy in all black clutching a butcher knife comes after you, I won't hesitate to say I told you so."

With that, she turned on her heel and marched out the door. "Split up, he says," she muttered to herself as she walked down the stairs. "Split up in a creepy mansion. That makes perfect sense."

The living room was completely dark. Every window was boarded up, little slivers of light from the street peeking through the slats in the boards. She swept her flashlight around the room slowly, shifting into serious CSI mode. It was bare except for a thin, undisturbed layer of dust covering the wooden floor.

No footprints, no body, no nothing.

Stella frowned and slowly walked into the kitchen. Like the living room, it was bereft of furniture. The appliances were old and rusty and looked like they hadn't been used in several decades.

_Plunk. Plunk. Plunk._

The sound echoed off the crumbling walls. Stella glanced around, apprehension welling up in her chest.

"Not funny, Mac!" she called.

_Plunk. Plunk. Plunk._

She looked over to the sink. Water slowly dripped from the faucet into the metal sink. Stella breathed a sigh of relief. At least that was one mystery solved.

"_Uuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhh."_

The long, low groan made her hair stand on end and shivers run down her spine. "Mac?" she called.

"_Uuuuuuuugggggghhhhhh."_

Okay, this really wasn't funny. It was downright frightening. She glanced around the kitchen one more time. "Nope, no body here," she murmured before hurrying out of the room. Maybe Mac needed a little help in some other room of the house without weird groaning.

Meanwhile, Mac poked his head inside one of the bedrooms. Cobwebs hung in the corners next to the very old molding. The only furniture in the room was a small dresser, covered in a layer of dust. Everything looked really undisturbed.

_Clang, scrape. Clang, scrape. Clang, scrape._

His ears perked at what sounded like a huge chain being picked up and dragged across the floor. Chain? That was definitely strange.

He shook his head. Stella's comment about a creepy guy in a butcher knife and their proximity to Halloween were playing tricks with his mind. He knew there were no such things as ghosts and goblins. Of course there weren't.

Were there?

Suddenly he heard a footstep behind him, and his muscles tensed. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and one hand went to the gun on his hip.

"Mac?" the hushed whisper came.

Recognizing Stella's voice, he relaxed with a sigh and whirled around. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" he hissed.

Her eyebrow nearly hit her hairline. "Is the man who doesn't believe in ghosts getting a little freaked out?"

"No!" he retorted hastily. "It's a crime scene, and I could've shot you."

Stella's mouth twitched, but she said nothing.

"I thought you were supposed to be searching downstairs."

"There's, uh, nothing down there."

"You sure?"

She nodded fervently, and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

_Clang, scrape. Clang, scrape._

The sound came again, and they both jumped. Stella clutched at his shirt, and he wrapped his arms around her, their eyes darting back and forth.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"I don't know. Probably the wind moving something around."

"_Uuuuuuuuggggggghhhhhh."_

Her grip on his shirt tightened, and she glared at him. "That the wind too?"

"Maybe."

Suddenly a faint light in the corner of the room caught Stella's eye. She nudged Mac and gestured toward it. "What's that?"

The light slowly grew brighter and brighter. Slowly it left the wall, moving toward them inch by inch.

"Mac?" she asked again.

He stared at it for a long silent moment as it gradually approached them. Then it picked up speed, racing in their direction. They ducked as it zoomed over their heads and out the door before it suddenly vanished over the balcony, replaced by the slow, low groan.

"That's it," he muttered. "Ghosts or no ghosts, let's get outta here!"

Stella didn't have to be told twice. Cases in hand, they dashed down the stairs and out the front door, sprinting as fast as they could toward the truck. They flung open the passenger-side door and leaped into the car. Mac slid over to the driver's side and revved up the engine just as Stella slammed the door behind her. Tires squealed in protest as his foot slammed down the accelerator, and they sped off into the distance, leaving the street quiet and deserted.

Well, almost deserted.

In Flack's silver, unmarked sedan, a shadowy figure slowly sat up and watched the truck skid around a turn and disappear from sight. Reaching down, he extracted a cellular phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Did we get 'em?" a familiar, heavily-accented baritone asked on the other end.

The figure grinned. "Oh yeah. They ran outta here like scared rabbits."

The voice on the other end laughed loudly. "Gotta say, Don, this has to be your best one yet."

Don Flack chuckled. "Couldn't have done it without you, Danny. Did you get it on tape?"

"Every last bit of it. Oh, man, this was so sweet! I can't wait to ask 'em about it tomorrow. You know we're gonna be dead when they find out it was a prank, right?"

Flack shrugged. "Yeah, but it'll be worth it."

"Well worth it! See ya in the mornin', man."

"Okay. Hey, and tell Adam thanks for all those special effects."

"Will do."

Flack flipped his phone shut and snickered softly, shaking his head.

God, he loved Halloween.


	4. O Tannenbaum

**A/N:** I'm so sorry it's been so long since I updated this one. Life has been insane recently. But... I'M DONE WITH COLLEGE! I graduate in about 3 days, and then I might have a little more time to do writing. Thank you guys so much for sticking with me. I apologize for not sending out some replies for "Excursion" but I really appreciate your input. I hope you guys enjoy my Christmas contribution. It's short, but I think it said all I wanted to say.

Merry Christmas to you all. May your holiday season be blessed with peace and love.

**O Tannenbaum**

Snow drifted gently from the sky. Fat, white flakes danced and twirled in the cold northern breeze, covering the field in a blanket of pure white. It piled on the branches of the groups of evergreen trees gathered in the small clearing just outside the city.

Mac rubbed his gloved hands together briskly as he walked with Stella toward a group of trees on the far side of the lot. His breath steamed into the air, mingling with hers. She'd managed to convince him to hunt for Christmas trees with her, claiming that it was a Christmas tradition and she wasn't about to break it because of a little snow. Part of him scoffed at _little_. He didn't exactly call three inches of snow _little_. Reaching up, he swept some of the snow out of his hair, watching it tumble to the ground in front of him.

If he were to be honest with himself, though, he didn't quite mind being out here in the cold with her. It was almost peaceful. They were away from the city, so there was little traffic noise. Just the soft whisper of the breeze through the trees, just the scent of evergreens mingling with the sweet scent of Stella's perfume. A silent night.

Her quiet voice broke the stillness of the night air. "What do you think about one of those?"

He followed the line of her index finger to a small grouping of trees about forty yards to their left. "Sure."

They continued walking in that direction until they reached the cluster of six or seven evergreens, with boughs bending under the weight of the snow. Then they stopped, silently sizing up each tree.

Stella rubbed her hands together. "What'cha think?"

He glanced at her. Snow clung to her honey-colored curls, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold night air. But her green eyes danced, and he smiled slightly. "You tell me."

Her eyes narrowed into a mock glare. He shrugged his shoulders. "It's your tree."

"Fine," she huffed, a puff of steam coming from her breath. She stepped forward, using her practiced observational skills to carefully study every tree. Reaching out with a gloved hand, she touched a branch on one of them, sending snow plummeting to the ground.

"This one's a little scraggly," she observed.

Mac raised an eyebrow. "Scraggly?" he echoed. "That a new scientific word?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Like gooey."

A chuckle escaped him, remembering her insistence upon using a word he wasn't even sure was a word. "Thought so." He walked to the other side of the tree cluster and touched another one. "What about this one?"

She narrowed her eyes for a moment. "Too bushy."

"Bushy?"

"Bushy."

Mac pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Right. Bushy."

Stella glanced around pensively, obviously unhappy with the ones she saw there. At last, her eyes lit up. Without a word, she marched straight toward another cluster of trees on the other side of the lot and touched one of them. It stood about six feet high, with a nearly perfectly shaped body and a sweet scent.

Eyes sparkling, she turned to look at Mac as he trailed behind her. "This is it."

"This one?" he asked, coming up beside her.

"Definitely. It's perfect."

He studied her for a moment, taking in her pink cheeks and twinkling eyes. Finally he broke out into a smile, turned around, and waved toward the man at the front of the lot. "Done," he said.

*****

After much pushing, pulling, grunting, and some swearing in Greek from Stella, the two friends finally managed to get the tree up the stairs and into her living room. Wiping sweat from his brow, Mac stood back with her, arms folded in front of him, staring at the tree. "Well," he said, "that was fun."

Stella laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. "Now comes the really fun part." At his quirked eyebrow, her grin widened. "Decorating the tree."

Mac groaned, though he was secretly thrilled at the prospect of decorating a tree with her. "Great. Maybe I should get out while I have the chance."

Her lips twisted into a pout, and he knew he was caught. Not that he would've wanted to leave anyway. "C'mon, Mac," she pleaded. "It'll be fun. And I'll even make you some hot cocoa afterward."

Pretending to think about it for a moment, he sighed and said, "I guess."

She grinned and clapped her hands together excitedly. "Great. Be right back." She disappeared down the hall, leaving him to stare after her in bewilderment. But she was only gone for a moment before she reappeared dragging a huge box marked "Christmas" behind her. "Everything's in here!"

Mac's mouth dropped open when she opened the box, revealing piles of ornaments, lights, tinsel, and other knick-knacks wrapped in newspaper. "What'd you do, rob a Christmas store?"

"No," she retorted, giving him a glare. "I just like Christmas."

"I gathered that." Mac sighed and sat down on the carpet next to the box. "So what first?"

She handed him a tangled mess of lights. "These."

Time passed quickly for the pair. Christmas music from the local radio station played softly in the background, nearly drowned out by their chatter. They talked about everything, from snow to Christmases past to funny stories about trying to track down jolly ol' Saint Nick. For once, it was nice to not have to worry about bodies and bullets and autopsies. Here, just a few days before Christmas, they could just be Mac and Stella. No presuppositions, no hierarchy. Just them.

Mac finally wrapped the last of the silvery tinsel around the tree. He took a step back to look at it and, satisfied with his work, sat back down to help Stella put the hooks on several of the ornaments. "You really go all out on this Christmas stuff," Mac said quietly, sliding the hook onto one of the colorful balls.

"It was always my favorite time of the year," she replied. "At Saint Basil's, we used to decorate the big Christmas tree in the cafeteria together. We'd sing Christmas carols and hear the Christmas story. And it was one of the only times of the year all of us were truly happy."

Silence fell over the pair for the first time in hours while Mac absorbed her words. She never talked much about her experience at Saint Basil's Orphanage. He never asked about it much. He knew she didn't have a good childhood. Just a few months ago, watching her mourn the only connection to the mother she never knew broke his heart. And now, visions of a young Stella in a huge orphanage with no family danced in his head, making his heart ache again.

"Mac." The soft sound of his name from her lips snapped him out of his thoughts. When he looked up, she was smiling at him softly. "It's okay," she said, touching his hand. "I promise, it's fine."

He returned her smile and gently squeezed her fingers. "I know."

With a grunt, he stood up to hang a couple of the ornaments on the tree.

"What are your plans this year?" Stella asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Flack invited me to his house Christmas Day. You?"

"A friend invited me to her family's house for the weekend after Christmas. I'm not sure I'll go." He turned around and raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged. "It's in Hoboken. There's something about smelling petrochemicals on Christmas Day."

Mac laughed, shaking his head. Suddenly, an idea struck him, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Spend Christmas with me this year."

Utter quiet answered him. He turned around to face his partner. Her mouth was hanging open, and her eyes were wide with shock. "Mac," she began.

"I mean it. Spend Christmas with me." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, struck with a sudden nervousness. His gaze fell to the floor. "I make a mean turkey stuffing. My cranberry sauce could use some work, but…" his voice trailed off, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. They were glistening in the low light.

"Stel, Christmas is about celebrating a gift given out of love. It's about doing something kind and thoughtful for someone you care about. It's about family. You're the only family I have now after Claire. I care about you very much. And I want to celebrate Christmas with you."

He waited nervously while she chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. At last, she nodded, curls spilling over her shoulders. "I'd be honored, Mac." And then she laughed, a little tearfully. "Really. Thank you."

He grinned happily before he returned to hanging ornaments. It almost felt like Christmas Day already. He couldn't remember feeling this giddy since he was a little boy. A rustling sound behind him stopped his thoughts. Stella came up behind him and, placing a hand on his shoulder, hung a small Nativity scene beside his ornament. "I think that should do it," she whispered.

Mac smiled at her. "Lights?"

"Lights."

She took a step back. Mac picked up the plug for the tree lights and slid it into the outlet nearby. Straightening, he stepped back to stand next to his best friend. The apartment was bathed in a soft white light, and the tree was covered with colorful decorations. His eyes met Stella's, and she smiled, the lights of the tree reflected in her eyes.

"It's beautiful," she said softly.

His hand found hers, entwining their fingers as he smiled. "It sure is."

Outside, the snow continued to peacefully fall, and if one listened closely, one could hear the whispered voices of a thousand angels singing, "Peace on earth and good will to men."


	5. Next Year Baby

**A/N:** Thank you guys so much for all the reviews for the last chapter! My apologies for not getting out many review replies... I've gotten really bad about that, and I'm sorry. Life is just starting to settle down, now that I've graduated and moved across the city. But know that I appreciated all of them! You're all amazing! And I promise to do better about that this time... once I get back from vacation.

The inspiration behind this one comes from a song of the same name by Jamie Cullum (an awesome jazz artist). I'd debated on what title to use, but this felt most appropriate. I'm not sure if I like the end, but I wanted to get this posted before I leave for vacation and have limited internet access, because then it would really be late. And I hate being late. I hope you'll enjoy it. And as always, please let me know what you think!

Happy New Year to you all... may 2010 be filled with love, joy, peace, and blessings.

**Next Year, Baby**

Stella grimaced as yet another person jostled her from behind. "Remind me again," she said, leaning over to Mac, "why we decided to come to Times Square for New Year's?"

"What?" he shouted over the din of the partiers.

"I said, remind me again why we decided to come to Times Square for New Year's?" she raised her voice this time.

Mac nodded vigorously. "Yeah! There are sure a lot of people here!"

Sighing, Stella shook her head, loosening the snowflakes that had been clinging to her hair and sending them fluttering to her shoulders. "God, you're getting old!"

Her best friend and partner frowned, but his blue eyes twinkled in the multicolored lights. "Am not."

A laugh escaped her, and she shook her head again. "Sure. You would just hear that!"

Mac's grin spread across his handsome face, even reaching his eyes. "I'm kidding, Stell." Someone else bumped into him, and he turned his head to shoot a glare at the offending back. "But it's definitely crowded here."

"It's amazing how more than a million people can fit into about a ten block radius." Stella moved a little closer to Mac, reaching out her hand to grasp his coat. She didn't want to lose him in the crowd.

"We could've gone to Sinclair's party."

Stella scoffed, and Mac's grin widened. "And be bored to tears with all those high-society ass-kissers in their fancy tuxes? No thank you."

"At least it would've been warm." Mac rubbed his arms, his breath dissipating into the cold night air. A light snow fell from the dark sky, remnants of the storm system that had blown through just the day before. Despite the freezing temperatures, Times Square was packed with New Yorkers and out-of-towners alike, all waiting to see that famous ball drop at midnight.

"You'd rather sit in a dining room with the man gunning for your job?"

He glanced at her, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Actually, I can't think of anywhere else in the world I'd rather be."

Despite the cold, she felt her cheeks begin to warm, and Stella averted her eyes quickly. There was a look in his eyes she hadn't seen from him in a long time, not since he'd followed her to Greece. And even that seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since – Jessica, Adam, the Compass Killer. So much had changed. They'd changed.

"Stell?"

Mac's voice in her ear startled her, and she jumped. He'd put his lips right next to her ear, and she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. She blushed, grateful for the colored lights. "Sorry. Just thinking." She craned her neck, suddenly struck by a craving for some hot chocolate. Fortunately there was a stand on the other side of the crowd, not too far away from where they stood. "Hey, I think there's some hot chocolate over there."

"Well, let's go." His icy fingers grasped her wrist then slid down to her hand. Stella looked at him, surprised. He gazed back at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Swallowing hard, she turned her palm toward his, and his fingers interlaced with hers. She looked at him again, seeing absolutely no sign of discomfort or awkwardness on his face.

He tugged on her hand, leading her through the crowd in the direction of the stand. They ordered two hot cocoas and, steaming cups in hand, stood to the side of the throng, still in view of the ball. Stella blew on her hot drink, the steam floating up into the cold night air. "So what's one favorite memory you have of last year, Mac?" she asked, taking a sip of her cocoa.

His brow wrinkled at her question. She studied him, smiling slightly at the familiar, concentrated expression on his face. Finally, after a long moment, he said, "Greece."

"Really?" Her eyebrow went up.

"Yeah." Mac looked her in the eyes, his blue irises boring into hers. "I know it was tough for you. But I think in ten years of knowing you, that's the closest to you I've ever felt."

Stella melted right there. Tears sprang up in her eyes, and she glanced away, trying to regain control of her emotions.

The only sign that he noticed was him gently nudging her shoulder with his. "What about yours?" he asked.

She thought for a moment and said, "Passing out Christmas presents to the kids at the hospital." Mac smiled. "Seeing those kids' faces light up…"

"I know. Makes you feel really good."

"Yeah, it does." Stella glanced at the countdown clock on the big screen. Less than five minutes until midnight. Relative quiet settled over the pair (save for the loud rock music coming from the stage several hundred yards away), and she sipped her hot chocolate, simply enjoying Mac's company. It had been a long time since she'd gotten to do just that.

"You know, you haven't told me your resolution this year," Mac spoke suddenly. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. "Last year it was to do some more traveling, and you did that. And the year before that, it was to keep up with world news."

Stella harrumphed. "Yeah, that went well." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Mac grinned. "I never said you kept them all. So what is it?"

She thought for a moment. Finally she shook her head. "I don't know. Read more books. Do some cooking, maybe. Spend less money on shoes." Here Mac let out a bark of laughter, and she elbowed him. "Stop it."

"Okay, okay."

Thirty seconds to go.

"What about yours, Mac?"

He glanced at her. An enigmatic smile appeared on his face. "I'll tell you next year."

Stella looked at the clock and looked back at him. "You've got fifteen seconds to come up with one."

"I have one. I'll tell you next year."

"Ten!" the shout came up from the throngs of people, and Stella shook her head.

"Okay, whatever," she said as the crowd yelled, "Nine!"

Mac grinned.

"Eight!" they said together, voices mingling with a million others.

"Seven!"

"Six!"

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

And the huge ball plummeted toward the ground as the grand shout of "Happy New Year!" went up from the streets of Manhattan.

Confetti fluttered down to the streets, mixing with the steadily falling snow. Stella lifted her face and laughed, strips of paper clinging to her curls. Her eyes met Mac's, and it seemed to her that he was much closer than he had been before. "Happy New Year," she murmured.

Mac reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. Her lip quivered, and she slowly closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. He leaned closer to her, so close that she could smell mixture of chocolate and Mac on his breath. The hand on her cheek slid to the back of her head, tangling in her curls as he tipped her face up ever so slightly.

At last he closed the distance, and his lips brushed hers hesitantly. Just a whisper of a kiss, but it felt like fireworks exploded inside of her. He pulled back slightly before meeting her lips with his again, more adventurously this time. The excited yells of the crowd around her disappeared, and in a mass of more than one million people, it seemed like they were the only ones. His lips were soft, ever so soft as they caressed hers lovingly. Every thought fled her mind, and ll she could do was grasp the lapel of his coat with her free hand and hang on. She could feel his passion burning just below the surface, an intensity that he held in check, and she wondered what it would be like if it was let loose just for a moment.

She couldn't wait to find out.

Finally he initiated the end of the kiss and pulled away. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze. His eyes shone softly in an expression she hadn't seen since that empty orchard in Greece.

"Happy New Year, Stell," he whispered, brushing confetti from her hair.

"Wow," she breathed, and he grinned.

"I'm glad you liked my New Year's resolution."

"_That_ was your resolution?"

"Part of it."

Stella lifted an eyebrow gratefully, letting the hand still on his lapel snake around his waist. "What's the rest of it?"

Mac smiled gently. "To tell you how I've felt about you all these years. To tell you today. And tomorrow. And all 365 days of this year." He stroked her cheek with his index finger. "And all 365 days of next year. You mean everything to me, Stell. You always have. And I want to make it work with you."

Tears appeared in her eyes for the second time that evening, and she smiled at the wonderful man in front of her. "You mean everything to me too."

A wide grin spread over his face. "I'm glad."

And just before her lips met his, she murmured, "Here's to next year."


End file.
